


eyes the colour of the sea

by Scarlet66



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Introspection, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Winter War, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4498014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlet66/pseuds/Scarlet66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The first time Rangiku meets the boy with the ocean in his eyes, he is hurt. </em>
</p><p>A series of snapshots about the relationship — one built on a strong foundation of trust and mutual respect — between Matsumoto Rangiku and Hitsugaya Toushirou, starting from when they first meet to a year after the Winter War. Told from Rangiku's perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. swept away

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man I am such a fucking loser for these two, I don't even know what I'm doing  
> I just —  
> -screams into the distance-

 

The first time Rangiku meets the boy with the ocean in his eyes, he is hurt.

Not physically, not even really outwardly — not unless you peer underneath the surface layer of calm. It's in the way he looks at the coins the shopkeeper so dismissively deposits on the counter before reaching for them himself, the way he keeps his gaze down as if looking up into the older man's obvious disdain for him will blind him.

Naturally, Rangiku gives the rude man — and the boy, too, while she's at it, because if he doesn't learn to stick up for himself now, he never will — an unholy piece of her mind. She doesn't notice the sea-green of his eyes or the energy, raw and powerful, that coils within his small body until she picks him up and _makes_  him look at her.

So of course, she follows him to his house after he speeds away. 

When she sees the way his reiatsu curls around the small room and leaves the air at least fifteen degrees lower than it should be, she realizes the energy she felt before was only the shallow exterior masking a much colder power. His real strength, the fury of the beast hidden deep, deep within, is nothing short of a storm — a violent tempest on the verge of bursting forth to destroy everything that has the misfortune of standing in its path. She can feel its breath beneath her fingertips as she lightly touches his chest, telling him to listen; it is mighty and magnificent like the ocean in its most savage wrath.

It's easy to see why the boy is afraid of it.

Suddenly the looks everyone else — children and adults alike — gave him as he walked home makes sense. Even souls with the barest minimum of reiryoku can instinctively sense something as powerful as this, even if they're not aware of what it is they're looking at.

The next day they depart for the academy, and the look on his face as he bids farewell to his grandmother encourages Rangiku to put what she hopes is a comforting hand on his back as he turns away. The boy — Toushirou, she learned last night — is gruff and distant, but that doesn't stop him from carving a place into her heart all the same.

 

* * *

 

Shin'ou Academy is an institution for the naturally talented and the diligent. Hitsugaya Toushirou is both of the above, and much, much more.

Rangiku goes to visit him a week after he passes the entrance exam — with flying colours, too, but then again she wouldn't have expected anything less — and finds him to be the subject of envy, admiration, and antipathy all at once. 

(The last is mostly because of his _'arrogant ice-cold attitude'_ , which, she admits, is amusing and quite fitting.)

She finds him easily enough; his control over his reiatsu still needs work. He's a loner by nature, so she isn't surprised to see him sitting by himself under a tree at the very edge of the courtyard, head of white hair buried in a book thicker than him.  _He looks awfully lonely_ , Rangiku thinks, so she takes it upon herself to fix the situation. The boy needs to lighten up. 

"Whatcha reading, Toushirou?" she asks him as her line of sight falls directly in front of his — upside down. She's hanging down from the tree branch directly above him, mostly because there was absolutely, positively no other appropriate course of action she could have taken to steal his attention away from the text in front of him. She's seen how he is with books.

Plus it would make him jump a foot in the air, and there's just no way Rangiku would ever pass up seeing that.

As she predicted, he startles violently, and the yelp that escapes from his mouth would have sent Rangiku into a fit of laughter for a solid five minutes but then — and this is the part she  _didn't_  see coming — in his flailing about his forehead collides with hers with a brutal  _crack_.

They both end up on the ground, rolling and hissing in pain. 

"What the  _hell_  —" he groans.

" _Damn_ , your head is  _hard_ , kid —"

"It's not  _my fault_  you can't greet people like a normal person!"

"I was just trying to cheer you up!"

"You have a real funny way of doing it!"

 _This is going all wrong,_ she thinks despairingly. She's supposed to be the good adult here. She's supposed to be here to uplift his spirits, encourage him to make friends, do well in school (not like that's really necessary, but she's a  _good adult_  okay), and all that jazz. Instead she's here, curled up on the grass in agony, arguing with a child.

Toushirou takes a look at his book, which fell off his lap during the struggle, and clicks his tongue. "You made me lose my page," he mutters.

Rangiku sits up, still rubbing her forehead, and attempts to salvage what she can. "What were you reading about?"

He hesitates a little. "History of ice-type zanpakutou," he says quietly.

The older woman's face softens immediately. A few minutes ago in the full shade of the tree, he looked almost intimidating despite his small stature, with his brows furrowed and shoulders hunched in concentration as his eyes sped over the contents of the page. Now, with half of his face speckled in swaying shadows and the other half in calm sunlight, his downward gaze is contemplative, withdrawn, and he looks every bit the child he actually is. Before Rangiku can think better of it, she reaches out and puts her hand on his head. He protests, naturally, but she doesn't move.

"You sit out here alone in fear of accidentally freezing other people to death," she tells him gently. That stuns him into silence, and she knows she's hit the mark.

"It's quieter out here," he eventually replies.

Rangiku hums. "If you say so. Have you been talking to him?"

He shakes his head.

"He's your other half; there's nothing to be afraid of."

"I know."

She looks at him for a moment, then ruffles his hair until it's even messier than it was before. She skips away, giggling, before his hands have the chance to bat her away. 

Later, she thinks of the way his eyes went wide and the way he screamed — all frosty composure forcefully stripped away, for once — when she surprised him, and she gets her five minutes of laughter after all. She's already thinking of ways to sneak up on him the next time she visits.

 

* * *

 

She goes back to see him a few more times, partly because she gets bored (Paperwork? What paperwork?) and partly because she genuinely wants to see his progress. Accidental popsiclization ( _'Shut up, kid, it's totally a word, I've been alive_ faaar _longer than you,_ trust me _.'_ ) becomes less and less of an issue. It doesn't do anything about his loner streak, but she supposes that's just how he is. It does bolster his confidence, however, which shows in his classes: he easily excels in both theoretical courses and practical skill applications. By the time month six rolls around, he's finished twenty three assignments in the human world as well as achieved shikai. 

She isn't at all surprised that he graduates after only one year at the top of every single one of his classes.

(She thinks of another silver-haired genius who accomplished a similar feat and tries not to miss him, tries not to think about the fact that they haven't talked like they used to in years.)

She's slightly and pleasantly surprised when he enlists in the Tenth Division.

"It was by chance," he assures her as he frantically tries to escape from her chest and arms before he gets a punctured lung. "I really, genuinely, sincerely did not know you were here."

That earns him an even tighter hug — perhaps a couple of cracked ribs — as well as a few very aggressive pats to the head.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, Captain Shiba dotes on Toushirou even more than Rangiku does. ( _Shhh_ , shoving half of your job onto your inexperienced subordinate  _totally_ counts as doting. Totally.)

Everything that warrants this affection — his age, his self-imposed maturity, his reputation as a genius with a personality as cold as his reiatsu (something both Rangiku and the captain find hilarious, considering how heated Toushirou can be), a position as a seated officer from the very first day on the job, a speedy rise through the ranks — sparks silent grumbling among almost everyone else. They think they're being subtle, but they don't know just how perceptive Toushirou is. If he was still the lonely kid Rangiku picked up in Jun'rinan, she would smack him in the head for taking it all as silently as he does, but he's different now — unlike before, he's focused. 

This is his way of taking care of himself. Each whispered criticism is only another reason to work harder, to do better. It's a waste of time to argue with people who can't look past the exterior to see the hard-working boy underneath: the one who divides his time between training and completing more paperwork than the captain and lieutenant of the division combined.

It's funny how the world works, Rangiku thinks. She was the one who hoped to help him, but now he's the one she can learn a thing or two from.

(She'll die before she admits that to him, though.)

(And no, it doesn't stop her from dumping as much of her work as possible on him.)

 

* * *

 

The whispering stops abruptly after one mission.

They're hunting hollows in North Rukongai after receiving both witness and victim reports in the wooded areas of District 64. The fifteen officers who are sent are split between the two halves of the woods, with Captain Shiba leading one group and Rangiku leading the other. The lieutenant disperses the forces so that some are on the ground and others are in the trees, and navigates with ease every nook and cranny where hollows are likely to hide. She used to live here, after all, and she would almost be happy to be home if it weren't for the memories of the times she almost starved to death.

They came through the village — if a handful of dilapidated wooden huts and shops could really be called as such — when they first arrived in the area. Misery hung over the air like a veil.

She didn't know many other faces here aside from Gin's, but even the ones she did know are gone: the old man at the counter who would give her a piece of candy every once in a while, even when it was a luxury she couldn't afford; the girl whose face was constantly decorated with fist-sized bruises and waved to Rangiku every time they passed each other on the street. Rangiku's chest ached a little at that.

Toushirou, observant as always, sees all these little signs. He tends to pick up on a lot of things: when she's thinking of skipping work, when she's drunk even when she doesn't look like it. She's fairly certain he's even noticed her uneasy relationship with Gin.

"You used to live here?" he finally asks as they jump from branch to branch. There's a hint of hesitation in his voice. Certain districts of Rukongai have it easier than others; Jun'rinan is one such district. 

"Mhmm," Rangiku affirms. 

The younger shinigami opens his mouth, then closes it again. He's curious like always, but afraid of stepping over boundaries.

No, not afraid. Just considerate.

"I see," he says, and that's that. Rangiku is grateful.

\-----

There are  _a lot_  more hollows than anticipated. The first one they find call for others, and those call for even more. People panic.

There's screaming everywhere — of agony, of fear — from shinigami and hollows alike, and the two sides mix into some sort of horrific, distorted symphony. The men are quickly sustaining injuries; pretty soon, one of those wounds will be fatal, followed by another, and another, and another.

It's a miracle that in the midst of the chaos Rangiku manages to catch Toushirou's eye on the other side of the battle as he splits a hollow who is more head and mouth than anything else clean in half. He gives her a look — this isn't the first fight they've fought together but he's never looked at her so desperately before, like he's begging her to understand something; and thankfully she does, she knows what he's going to do because unless he succeeds they'll all be wiped out — and she screams at everyone to  _fall back behind her immediately if they don't want to die._

\-----

The captain's group, who also encountered a much larger group of hollows than usual, finishes their battle first, but by the time they arrive to reinforce the other group there's nothing left to kill. The only sound reminiscent of the carnage is the echo of a roaring dragon fading into the sky. 

Now, there's just ice everywhere.

Toushirou's standing in the thick of it, surrounded by the glacial remnants of frozen monsters. His eyes are a bit too wide, his breath a bit too quick, his grip on Hyourinmaru a bit too tight. 

Behind Haineko's shield of ashes, Rangiku — and everyone else who managed to get to her in time (the ones who didn't were fortunately beyond the ice's range) — sees Captain Shiba's face stretch into a gleeful grin. He doesn't hesitate for a single second to run into the thick of the ice, only to promptly slip and fall on his ass. Toushirou jumps like the sight of his captain rubbing his rear end is the most frightening thing he's ever seen, and Rangiku can't help but break into full-blown, stomach-cradling laughter. 

A few days later, Toushirou is promoted to Third Seat. 

No one utters a single word of complaint.

 

* * *

 

"You two just want an excuse to drink," Toushirou accuses, eyes narrowed. 

Captain Shiba gasps. "That is  _not_  so!"

"Yeah, yeah, Toushirou!" Rangiku already has a bottle of sake in her hand, on its way to her mouth. "This is for you! Your promotion! You  _deserve_ this."

"If you two want to present me with a gift, give me peace and quiet and maybe try doing your own work." He points an irritated finger to the piles of documents overflowing on the captain's desk. "Like the battle reports from last month. Or the budget reports. This time you two can come up with your own excuses for why fourteen percent of our funds are being spent for _'recreational purposes'_."

"Awwww, Toushirou! You're no fun!"

"Yeah, yeah, no fun, no fun! Spoilsport!"

Rangiku's never seen a child twitch like he's about to go into cardiac arrest — can shinigami even have heart attacks? — but she figures there's a first for everything. 

\-----

No one quite remembers how it happens, but Toushirou gets drunk anyway.

After one cup.

 _What a lightweight,_ Rangiku thinks as she cocks her head and takes a moment to look at the way he's halfway sprawled across the table with his head pillowed in his arms. She bends down, scoops him up bridal style — man is he _tiny_ — and snickers a little; Toushirou would absolutely  _loathe_  being treated like this. She puts him on one end of the couch so she can take the other. She isn't much inclined to go all the way back to her room tonight.

On the other side of the office, her captain snores away on the floor, his haori covering him up to the stomach. Rangiku decides to leave him there. Too heavy to move. He probably won't catch a cold. Idiots don't catch colds, right? Right.

She's about to let herself plop onto the couch, hoping her hangover tomorrow won't be  _too_ bad, when she starts to imagine what  _Toushirou_  with a hangover will be like. Before she can begin to regret every single one of her life choices, though, a small hand latches onto her sleeve.

Toushirou's gaze is hazy and unfocused at best, and his face is still flushed from the alcohol in his system. It's... kind of adorable. Rangiku restrains herself from reaching out and pinching a cheek, certain that even a drunk Toushirou is capable of — of what? Biting her finger? Probably. 

"Matsumoto," he mutters.

Rangiku's lips twitch. "Yes?"

"I never..." He stops for a moment. He furrows his eyebrows, fumbling for words. Rangiku bites back a giggle — the sight of boy-genius at a loss for what to say is rare. "I never said thank you."

She blinks. "What for?"

"For letting me — you know. Not... kill my grandma. And for bringing me here."

_...Oh._

"So. Uh," the younger shinigami eloquently articulates, "I'm very... thankful."

Rangiku's answering smile is small and slow, but genuine. "I know."

The last of his wakefulness fades away as his eyelids fall and his fingers relax their grip. His hand droops and Rangiku catches it, before returning it gently to his side. She lightly runs a hand through his hair — it's exactly as fluffy as it looks — and brushes his fringe out of his face.

She raids the cupboards for blankets, but only finds one, comfy and blue; fortunately, it's big enough for the both of them. She settles in on the other side of the couch, props her feet up onto Toushirou's lap — not her fault she's so tall — and flings the blanket over them both. The corner ends up covering part of the boy's face and Rangiku stares at it for a long time before shrugging and laying herself down to sleep. 

\-----

The next morning, she teases him relentlessly about that song he may or may not have sung while dancing on the tabletop as he grumbles and curses and struggles to work off a relatively minor headache. (That's what friends are for, right?)

When Captain Shiba finally gets around to waking up, the first thing he does is start sneezing.

 


	2. rising waves

 

Years later, Captain Shiba walks out of Soul Society and doesn't walk back in, and it's like Ichimaru Gin and the morning Rangiku woke up alone in their small hut in District 64 all over again, except it isn't. 

(This time, there isn't even a set of footprints to indicate the direction in which he's gone.)

Shiba Isshin is frivolous, lazy, and perverted, but he would never leave a friend without a word — much less his entire division. Rangiku knows that, Toushirou knows that, everyone in the Tenth knows that.

But he did, and that's how Rangiku finds herself in the uncomfortable position of a substitute-captain who can't provide to her officers any answers for why their captain has  _vanished into the goddamned wind_ , because either no one knows, or no one will tell her. It's beyond vexing, and every time she walks into the office and sees Toushirou, who most definitely isn't  _him_ , sitting at what used to be  _his_  desk, finishing what should be  _his_  work, she wants to scream and throw her fist through a wall. 

She isn't the only one (and she tries not to take comfort in that); as much as Toushirou tries to neatly tuck it all away beneath a mask of indifference, she's known him long enough to know that he's as close to cracking as she is. Isshin was a father figure of sorts to him; he was the only person who could treat him like a child and never get more than a sullen glower in return.

But they can't allow themselves to wallow forever. In the aftermath of Captain Shiba's — ex-Captain, now — disappearance, Rangiku and Toushirou come to an agreement: he'll take care of the paperwork, and she'll do whatever she can to help when she isn't running around trying to keep the division from erupting into panic. Captain Aizen and Hinamori offer a hand on more than one occasion, but Toushirou refuses. Maybe it's more a matter of his own stubbornness — accepting help has never been one of his strengths — than a matter of saving what little face the division has left, but Rangiku reluctantly agrees with him. Losing their captain hasn't dealt anywhere near as big a blow to their work efficiency as it has to their pride.

Rangiku wonders if they'll ever see Isshin again, and if they do, if the man will be nothing more than a mangled and lifeless body. She wonders how many of the sleepless nights the bags underneath Toushirou's eyes testify to are spent thinking about the same thing.

A division is shaped in the hands of its captain, and Isshin's fingers were long and clumsy and they never stayed still, but they were always splayed wide, welcoming and warm. He was an unreliable man who inspired faith from even the stoniest of hearts.

Rangiku wonders if the idea of an Isshin who doesn't slack off, doesn't joke, doesn't poke fun at his subordinates sickens everyone else as much as it sickens her. 

For weeks Toushirou sleeps, eats, and works at that desk like he's chained to it, as if maybe, just maybe, if he does his work for him, he'll come back.

He doesn't. 

\-----

But beneath the outrage and the confusion, the same thought occupies Rangiku and Toushirou's heads: they should have gone with him.

 

* * *

 

There's really only one person within the Tenth Division who can fill Isshin's spot, but she stops herself every time she tries to put in a good word with one of the captains.

_He's too young._

Small shoulders, small back, small hands.

Rangiku takes pride in being one of the few who managed to land a place in his inner circle. She knows his abilities — both in and out of combat — better than anyone else. He's responsible and level-headed and diligent — everything Isshin wasn't. (And if he isn't Isshin then he'll die before he leaves without a single farewell.) The members of the division are coming to trust him, especially considering the effort he's been putting in to keep the entire operation running. He's been doing the captain's paperwork, occasionally even his training drills for years. 

He's inexperienced in leadership, certainly, and she'll never forget the time he passed out in the captain's office, partly buried under a landslide of unfinished paperwork. (Rangiku had to pull him out. _'It's called delegating, genius,'_ she chided him gently as she half-seriously karate-chopped his head.) He's stubborn and proud. He's a loner. He can't work his face into a genuine, affectionate smile to save his life. But he's a quick learner. She's seen him pick up kidou spells that take most students two weeks to master in three hours.

But the image of Isshin ditching the both of them to go off on his own — because, according to Toushirou, they would've only gotten in the way — won't leave her mind.

_Too young._

_But there's no one else, and Toushirou isn't Isshin._

"No, he isn't. He's a boy," Rangiku mutters out loud, as if spoken words can dispel the uncertainty in her head.

Rangiku isn't strong enough, and she's nowhere near tenacious enough. She can lead, and the division likes her well enough, but she can't  _lead._  

Weeks pass and it's clear that no suitable candidate has yet been found. Toushirou hasn't spoken of taking the Captain Proficiency Test, either, and Rangiku doesn't know if he's not ready, uninterested, or afraid of stepping on toes. 

She guesses it's the last option, in which case the aforementioned toes would be hers. 

In which case, there would be virtually no issue at all — despite whatever she may have said before, she cares for the position about as much as she cares for paperwork. In her eyes, the position  _is_  paperwork. The only remaining question is Toushirou's own will. 

\-----

Rangiku shouldn't even be surprised, really. Toushirou isn't at all a social butterfly, but that doesn't mean people don't know who he is. It was only a matter of time before someone — in this case, Captain Aizen and Captain Kyouraku — brought his name into the spotlight, despite whatever reservations they may have about his youth.

She just didn't expect to end up kneeling in the First Division's meeting hall with the full weight of the scrutiny of twelve captains bearing down on her. 

Captain candidates are usually nominated by other captains; lieutenants are notified after the official appointment, at which time they're given the choice to either stay or leave. If they're summoning her now, they must be looking to her for 'confirmation'. 

"As you know, the seat of Captain of the Tenth Division must be filled. If you have a candidate in mind, put forth his name now."

(So they're waiting for her to point him out on her own.)

This is the first time Captain-Commander Yamamoto has spoken to her directly, and Rangiku tells herself to  _keep it cool_. His reiatsu is almost fully suppressed — if it wasn't she'd probably be foaming at the mouth — but there are people in this world who require neither physical nor spiritual size to communicate their larger-than-life presence. Like a deep rumble of thunder, his voice is a promise of cataclysmic force with the power to move mountains and scorch the earth. If this man wishes it, he could reduce her to cinders with a single glance.

Every single person in this room can.

 _This is what a captain is._ Rangiku realizes now that in spite of all the time she's spent chasing one down through the streets of Seireitei, trying — in vain, most of the time — to get him to do his job, she never had many chances to observe the full extent of his power. 

(She definitely doesn't want the position now.)

Rangiku swallows, opens her mouth, and hesitates. She looks over to the empty space between Captain Kyouraku and Captain Kurotsuchi and tries to envision Toushirou standing there. Toushirou, with a white haori draped across his small shoulders and a zanpakutou longer than he is tall strapped to his small back. 

She sees him standing in a field of ice in District 64, gripping Hyourinmaru as if his life depends on it. She knows what that moment — the instance he realized that he had unleashed his shikai for the first time within the vicinity of so many people and yet  _nobody had died_  — means to him. 

_Those small hands had saved lives._

When she speaks, her voice is steady.

\-----

"I'm going to take the Captain Proficiency Test," Toushirou declares that same afternoon. Sea-green eyes are fixed on hers as he says it. His gaze doesn't waver. His mouth is set.

Rangiku takes the lollipop out of her mouth. "Okay."

"...Okay?"

"Yup."

"That's it?" He blinks. "'Okay'? No furious protesting? No indignant screeching that the job should be yours due to the matter of seniority? Nothing?"

"Hey! I don't screech!"

"You do. You are right now."

After a full minute of name-calling, cheek-pulling and hair-yanking, Rangiku huffs and puts her hands on her hips. "I already kind of put your name in for recommendation. I just didn't know if you actually wanted it. Good thing I wasn't wrong!"  

"...You don't mind?" For the first time since his early days at the academy, Toushirou's voice is tinted by a hint of soft uncertainty. 

She rolls her eyes. "Sure, it'd be kinda weird, but you and I both know I'm not made to be captain. You and I also both know that you're a genius and overachiever and you've worked hard enough to deserve it." Toushirou ducks his head, but not before Rangiku's sharp eyes catches the pink on his cheeks. She smirks.

Toushirou coughs and folds his arms. "Then I think it goes without saying that if I do happen to become your superior, your days of slacking off are over. Don't think I'm going to be as lenient as Captain Shiba was when it comes to making you do your job."

Rangiku's grin slides right off her face.

\-----

The most prominent thought that comes to mind as Rangiku stands between Nanao and Nemu on the day of the Promotion Ceremony is  _Wait, does this mean I have to call him Captain Hitsugaya from now on?_

That pulls her mouth into a frown, but it's quickly erased when Captain-Commander Yamamoto announces the start of the ceremony. 

Captain Hitsugaya Toushirou enters, and the hall is silent. 

The white haori — specially adjusted to fit his stature — billows slightly about him as he strides through the middle aisle. He's keeping his reiatsu suppressed like always, but enough of it is displayed so that any seated officer can sense his deep, cold energy curl protectively around him like an invisible ice dragon.

Rangiku's mouth curves upwards and her back automatically straightens with a sudden swell of pride. He catches her eye as he approaches, and despite the occasion she can't help but wink and pucker her lips as obnoxiously — but subtly — as she can at him as he passes by. 

He's gotten pretty good at concealing emotions beneath a blank façade over the past few years, but she can still tell by the minute twitch of his eye that he's absolutely  _disgusted_.

(A few people catch the exchange — her side of it, at least: Hinamori claps a hand to her mouth; Captain Aizen clamps his lips together to smother a grin; Shuuhei's eyes widen; Captain Kyouraku coughs; Nanao's mouth twitches; a couple of Tenth Division officers standing directly behind Rangiku muffle their giggling.)

Rangiku beams. 

\-----

He smacks her in the back of the head after the party.

Rangiku burps, her breath smelling keenly of sake, ruffles his hair, and ignores the glare that almost everyone who's been on the receiving end of it would swear is capable of freezing the fiery pits of hell.

 

* * *

 

Everyone who knows Rangiku knows that she'll turn any excuse for celebration into a reason for alcohol. Her superior's birthday is no exception. 

— Until Hinamori tells her with a firm voice that "No, Rangiku-san, we have to do something special! Something he'll actually like! Something that won't make him want to strangle you!"

Well, that's going to be difficult.

What did he give her for her birthday? A bottle of high quality, expensive sake wrapped in pink and orange ribbons and half a day off, which would have been even better if he agreed to drink with her and didn't make her come in on time the next morning, but, well. Can't have everything.

Okay, then. Guess she'll have to put in  _some_  effort after all.

\-----

Fireworks turn out to be a pretty great idea; Toushirou — Captain Hitsugaya, she reminds herself — even thanks her. Rangiku pats herself on the back for that one. 

Captain Aizen says something about the happiness that comes with knowing one's birthday, and Rangiku immediately thinks of Gin. She hasn't celebrated a birthday with him in — how many years? Twenty? Thirty? The last interaction they had was a smirk and a small wave he casually tossed her way and a nod she threw back when they passed each other outside the Tenth Division barracks two weeks ago.

She misses him. 

She looks at Hitsugaya and Hinamori and feels something akin to envy; the two share a kind of exasperated fondness for each other that childhood friends are supposed to have. Rangiku teased him about that when she first saw the smaller girl congratulate him for joining the Gotei Thirteen ( _'I knew you'd make it, Shiro-chan!'_ ), and he shot the orange-haired lieutenant his best 'go away before I freeze your brain' face in return.

 _'She's like a stupid, clumsy sister who's too nice for her own good,'_  he said offhandedly. That's true, in a way; Hinamori is warm loyalty and genuine compassion — essentially made of everything good in the world — and that gives her a certain air of vulnerability. But Rangiku wonders; a zanpakutou is a reflection of one's soul, and Tobiume spits fire. What does that say about Hinamori's 'weakness'?

(What do ashes — merely the ugly remains of a blazing flame, now long dead — say about Rangiku?)

(She wonders if Gin ever saw her that way — as someone to be removed from the path of harm.)

Rangiku hopes fervently, perhaps a bit selfishly, that Hinamori never stops insisting on calling her captain 'Hitsugaya-kun'. 

She hates it when good friends drift apart.

 

* * *

 

It's not often that Rangiku raises her hand — without someone else propping it up for her — for a mission, especially one that Hitsugaya is leading. It's been four years and seven-or-so months since he received his custom-made haori, and she knows very well that he doesn't need to be babied. But she wakes up that day with restlessness clutching at her stomach and stirring in her bones, and the next thing she knows, she's tagging along despite Hitsugaya's raised eyebrow.

If a sense of foreboding and an MIA ex-captain are colouring her impulsive decision, she doesn't tell Shuuhei and Kira when she cancels their plans for the day.

\-----

It's not often that Rangiku has a chance to feel grateful for choosing to do overtime, or for abstaining from drinking.

 _Thank god I'm not hungover,_  she thinks as the hollow, thin and coiled like a centipede with a praying mantis' front claws — that somehow managed to completely hide its reiatsu until now — materializes soundlessly behind Hitsugaya. The only reason Rangiku reacts a split second faster is because she happened to be facing the right direction. It takes less than that for her body to move.

(In hindsight, she should have just yelled at him. Or cut down the slimy insect from where she was standing. Oh well.)

She shoves him out of the way and bites down on her lower lip as the jagged tip tears through her abdomen. Her mind, still crystal clear, races and her hands blur. The claw begins to shift in her flesh, preparing to withdraw, and Rangiku hooks her fingers and grips it with enough strength to crack her nails — Yumichika is going to throw a _hideous_ fit when he sees this — and whiten her knuckles, not only to prevent further organ damage, but also to keep its owner in place. In the next half-second, the hollow is little more than harmless shards of ice.

 _I'm fine, the wound isn't that deep,_  she's about to tell Hitsugaya before he can even open his mouth — she knows he'll be shouting at her for being reckless. But she can't squeeze a single sound from her throat, and that's when the second wave of pain comes. Like a spider gracefully stretching out its legs, it unfurls slowly, agonizingly, the limbs gently scraping her insides. It paralyzes her and knocks the breath out of her lungs. She can't even scream. The sharp clarity brought forth by adrenaline is all but gone now.

The last thing she sees after her body hits the ground, before blackness completely swamps her vision, is Hitsugaya's face hovering over her, eyes wide. ( _Huh,_ she thinks.  _Never seen that before_.) The last thing she hears are voices calling her name.

\-----

"If you're thinking about your division members, they all made it back largely unharmed. The only injuries sustained were cuts and bruises. Captain Hitsugaya is unhurt; I told him to go home an hour ago. He's been bringing his work with him, and he looked like he needed some sleep."

Rangiku laughs a little — because that sounds _exactly_ like him — and then winces. Ow. Hole in her abdomen. Right. "Thanks, Nanao. Efficient as always."

The stern-faced lieutenant pushes her glasses up. Her expression is impervious as always, but her eyes flash worry. "You were lucky. Captain Unohana said that if you had gotten here even five minutes later, you'd likely be dead."

"Courtesy of my captain. I'm lucky his bankai allows him to fly." 

Their journey back to Seireitei was mostly a fog in the midst of Rangiku's agony-induced haze; the bits and pieces she can recall include pulsing pain, Hitsugaya's voice, and the chill of his reiatsu churning around them. She can still picture the wings of ice on his back, massive and powerful, beating rhythmically to send them soaring through the sky at top speed while the wind they displaced howled in protest around them. She remembers staring at those wings, at the way sunlight caressed every little surface, the way the lights scattered and danced with every wing stroke, and thinking they were beautiful.

Rangiku tries to sit upright, but one look from her friend makes her reconsider. "How long have I been out?"

"Two days. It was a strong poison. That's why your wound is still sore, if you were wondering; Captain Unohana had to prioritize extracting the poison and it took even her a few hours. It wasn't something anyone had ever seen before."

"I bet Kurotsuchi got a kick out of that."

"Yes, actually. He's ecstatic. It's creepy." Nanao sighs. "Captain Hitsugaya said the hollow concealed its reiatsu until the moment it attacked."

"Yeah. Can hollows usually do that? They can't, right?"

"No. However, I believe there was an incident a few decades back where a group of students from Shin'ou Academy encountered something similar while on assignment in the human world."

"Wow. Good memory."

Nanao ignores the compliment. "I'll check the records and see what I can find." She relaxes her shoulders and inclines her head just a tiny bit: signs that the business talk is mostly over. At least for now, she's just Nanao the Friend rather than Lieutenant Ise. "You sure took a risk."

Rangiku moves her shoulders a little to imitate a shrug. "It was an in-the-moment kind of thing. Besides, it's a lieutenant's job to protect her captain's back."

"And it's the captain's job to look out for his subordinates," another voice responds. "I'd say Hitsugaya-kun did pretty well in that regard."

Captain Kyouraku enters the room with a sunny "'Morning", his flowery kimono fluttering behind him. Nanao nods in greeting but doesn't get up. "He did get chewed up, though."

Rangiku's eyebrows arch up. "The Captain-Commander yelled at him?" 

Kyouraku chuckles. "Apparently it's frowned upon to charge into Seireitei fully equipped in one's bankai, no matter what the emergency is. It wasn't anything major, but he did scare some of the lower and unseated officers. It's not everyday you look up to the sky and see a miniature ice dragon charging through it."

Nanao stands up. "You should get some rest. Captain Unohana has ordered for you to stay here for at least another day, so she can monitor your condition. That also means  _no sake_."

Rangiku gives her her best puppy-dog eyes. It fails.

The bespectacled lieutenant turns to her captain. "And  _you_  have  _a job to do._ "

Kyouraku's face falls. "But Nanao-chan —"

"No buts.  _Go._ " She all but boots him out the door (but not before he manages a strangled "See you tomorrow Rangiku-san!" — which roughly translates to _Drinks are on me this time; meet me at the usual place tomorrow!_ ). Rangiku tries unsuccessfully to keep a straight face.

Nanao turns back with a small but tender smile. "Get well soon."

\-----

"It figures," Hitsugaya says slowly as the pen in his hand flies across the papers on his desk one by one, "that the first time I'm scolded by the Captain-Commander, it has to be because of you."

"Oh come on!" Rangiku complains. "I saved your life. No one else who was with us at the time can fly at over three times the speed of shunpo; if you'd been the one poisoned, no one would have been able to fly you back, and you wouldn't be here."

"I would have held out until the healers came," he scoffs.

Rangiku narrows her eyes. "You're right. I should have just let you die." She pivots, her hair flipping dramatically over her shoulder as she does so, and makes her way to the door.

Behind her, the sound of pen tip against paper ceases, and the younger shinigami sighs. "I was kidding, Matsumoto. I'm very grateful. Though I'd prefer it if you don't try that again." A pause, then, "And I'm glad you're okay."

Rangiku waits for a second before snorting out a laugh and twirling back to face him with an obnoxiously wide grin on her face. "I know! I just wanted to hear you say it."

The captain rolls his eyes, looking utterly  _done_ with her, until she skips over and, ignoring the alarm in his expression, pulls him into a bone-shattering hug. His infuriated protests — or pleas for his life, she can't really tell — come out muffled against her chest while she pounds his back and messes up his hair.

 

* * *

 

_(Years pass, and the two of them become really good at this whole captain-lieutenant business.)_

_(Rangiku, although more than proficient in a fight, still only does about a fifth of the office work she should be doing. Surprisingly, Hitsugaya has yet to give up on that aspect of their partnership. She compensates, however, by essentially becoming the glue of the division. Love and loyalty come easier to leaders like Ukitake, and the boy with the icy disposition — pun fully intended — isn't yet ready to fill those shoes. Rangiku has a naturally attractive personality — her beauty being only one part of the whole — that makes people gravitate toward her. She's the one who recognizes everyone by name, face, and personality; the one everyone greets when they see her; the one whose laughter fills the halls like sunlight; the one to talk to — and not always over drinks! — if one is in need of a listener, a second opinion, or a helping hand. She's open and thoughtful and radiant, and her officers love her for the warmth she brings to everyone in her presence.)_

_(If the lieutenant is the heart, popular and compassionate, that garners her division's adoration, then the captain is the brain, intelligent and methodical, that keeps its gears well-oiled. A division is shaped in the hands of its captain, after all, and Hitsugaya's palms are small but lined with calluses. He's not nearly as extroverted as Rangiku is, but words are only one method of expression. He leads by example; those who work for him learn more about him from every one of the practice strokes he does alongside them during sword drills than they ever could from a sentence. They come to recognize that in the long run actions and results mean more than words, and certainly more than age or any superficial concepts of seniority. Their eyes chase his back as doubt gradually transforms into respect. He prefers to isolate himself, whether he's fighting on the battlefield or working in his office, so usually all his officers get to see are the products of his efforts. But that is enough.)_

_(Surely the inner workings of the Tenth Division would go much more smoothly if a certain lieutenant would work just a bit harder, or if the captain didn't have to make it a part of his weekly routine to drag her out of the bar to do her job, but no one is going to be crying about it any time soon.)_

_(Probably.)_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fireworks bit is based off of the events of chapter 168.5... in case anyone doesn't read extra chapters??


	3. calm in the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT I'm sorry this took so long, uni started before I could put the finishing touches on it and then I wasn't satisfied with the ending and I could never get it right and
> 
> And here it is, finally. It only took me eighteen years. :'D

 

It's a strange sight, watching two people you deeply care about attempt to murder each other in cold blood. 

(Hyourinmaru's release instantly raised an alarm — Hitsugaya doesn't use his shikai unless it's an absolute necessity — and her mind flashed through the possibilities:  _human invaders captains Gin Kira Hinamori —_ )

( _— Gin._ )

(Rangiku raced to her captain's location, footsteps agile on rooftop tiles, and picked up three other sources of reiatsu — one much weaker than the others, and Rangiku put in an extra burst of speed when she realized who it was — on the way there. The temperature dropped as she approached, freezing the breath expelled from her lungs and solidifying the blood in her veins with cold dread. Upon her arrival, she skidded to a halt.)

It's no secret that Hitsugaya has never liked Gin — no one does. The man has a natural talent for rubbing people the wrong way, for getting under their skin and making them squirm, and he enjoys doing it, too. Others are wary of him at best and despise him at worst. If they hadn't been childhood friends, Rangiku would never have known he had anything even remotely resembling a heart.

But still, she has never seen Hyourinmaru explode forth in such — fury. Hitsugaya's usual coolheadedness is nowhere to be seen, replaced by frenzied killing intent that boils over in every swing of his zanpakutou. His gaze is piercing, focused, but it's obvious to Rangiku that he isn't seeing anything past his rage. Otherwise he wouldn't be trying to slaughter a fellow captain without any concrete proof of foul play, and neither would he do it in the presence of bystanders who could get hurt. 

 _They're really planning to cut each other's throats out,_ Rangiku thinks with a slow, dull thump of her heart.

Hitsugaya binds Gin's left arm in ice and chain, and Rangiku launches into the air before she can contemplate the complete stupidity of stepping between two captains hellbent on killing each other. Then she spots Hinamori below her — unconscious; small face tear-stained; delicate, bloody fingers still loosely gripping Tobiume — at the same time as a murmured _shoot to kill_  flutters in the wind and brushes against her ear, and then she's shifting her body, her hand on Haineko's hilt as she dives down, down, down, as swiftly as she can. She barely manages to raise her zanpakutou in time to block Shinsou's near-invisible strike. 

(They say that when two zanpakutou clash, one can sometimes see the other's deepest, innermost thoughts.)

(Rangiku sees nothing.)

Duty and loyalty take over and push doubt aside. Acting in defence is one thing — and it's easy to guess who started the fight — but targeting a defenceless Hinamori to gain an advantage is entirely inexcusable. 

"Please put away your zanpakutou, Captain Ichimaru." Rangiku tries not to make it sound like a plea. "If not, I will be your opponent."

Gin simply smiles that unfathomable, irritating smile of his and, after leaving a few words, vanishes.

 

* * *

 

Gin is gone and Hinamori is left physically and emotionally scarred. 

Hitsugaya, being the responsible one, blames himself and goes off immediately to train, before his wounds even fully recover, during what little time he has to spare between taking care of the paperwork for both the Tenth and Fifth Divisions. 

Rangiku, being an alcoholic, decides to throw caution to the wind one night after work is no longer enough to distract her, and drink herself stupid in her captain's empty office.

\-----

When she wakes up — from a dream of Gin, smaller and cloaked in shinigami obsidian, walking away from her while she reaches pathetically for him — her head is screaming at her and there's a captain's haori with the character for 'ten' on its back covering her shoulders. Rangiku feels the guilt churn in her stomach as she smooths her hands over the fabric, because what the hell is she doing, making someone who is, in all likelihood, physically and mentally drained take care of her after she passes out drunk on his goddamned couch?

She groans and runs a hand through her hair.

"Finally awake?" 

The person in question leans against the door, an action that speaks of his exhaustion — his back is usually ramrod straight. He crosses his arms, the motion burdened by lack of sleep.

"Sorry," she mumbles as she stands, careful not to knock over or step on the bottles strewn about the floor, and hands him his haori. She feels the sudden need to explain herself, but nothing comes out, so instead she just stands there. Fidgets with her shihakushou. Opens and closes her mouth.

What finally comes out is a quiet "I know what you're going to say."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he counters as he brushes past her, his haori fluttering against her arm as he pulls it on. He eyes the sake bottles on the ground with distaste and clicks his tongue when one of them comes into contact with the side of his foot.

"You obviously were."

"I wasn't. What's the point in telling you something you already know?"

Rangiku just blinks at him. 

"You're a lot of things." He gingerly picks up a bottle by the neck, holding it away from him as if it's going to nip at his nose. "Clueless is not one of them."

Rangiku lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. 

Hitsugaya places the bottle onto the table and points an angry finger down at the mess he's standing in. "And pick these up. I better not see these the next time I come in here."

Just like that, a piece of normality falls back into its place.

She raises her hand in a mock salute. "Aye aye, captain!"

 

* * *

 

"I hope you're ready." Hitsugaya's voice is steady against the wind, and it's like Rangiku is an open window and he can see right through her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies. She knows he can hear the near-imperceptible waver in her voice.

 _I won't mess up,_ she means. She knows he can hear that, too, because he lets it go.

His presence behind her, almost as familiar to her now as her own, vanishes as the battle starts and she shoves all stray thoughts to the back of her mind. Her captain is entrusting his back to her; regardless of her personal stakes in this, there's no way she can allow herself to fail.

 

* * *

 

In the end, she never gets to ask him why.

(He opened his eyes, for once, like he was trying to tell her something meaningful, for once. His mouth moved as if he was trying to speak. He looked at her as if he was trying to apologize.)

(But it isn't enough.)

Aizen's reiatsu fluctuates, then deflates, but doesn't disappear — like the noise has stopped, but its echoes are still faintly but endlessly reverberating. 

Rangiku doesn't care, because at the moment all she can do is look at  _his_  corpse, thin and pale just like she remembers, and wordlessly mourn the things they never had a chance to say. Her tears fall but they don't make a sound. Until now, she has never known the terrifying emptiness of uninterrupted silence.

Her tongue is too big in her mouth. There's blood in her throat and she's slowly but surely choking on it.

_Is that why it's so hard to breathe?_

She grieves for the boy who saved her life, the boy who gave her a birthday. She resents the man who left her, threw her aside without her consent, to  _save_  her — and for what? For this? 

No, sorry isn't enough. Isn't ever going to be enough. What she wants is something he'll never be able to give her, now. He left her nothing but questions she'll never have answers to and a void in her heart she'll never be able to fill.

And she can't even hate him for it.

 

* * *

 

She dreams of his back, like always. It's far away and fading quickly into blinding whiteness, and he won't stop walking, won't stop to turn around to face her.

(She's really starting to hate that image.)

He and the footprints he left behind him in the snow disappear before she can find her voice to tell him goodbye.

\-----

She steps out of the Fourth Division and into the Tenth. Hitsugaya takes one look at her, sighs, and points to the stack of documents on her desk. 

The bags beneath his eyes mirror her own. She doesn't need to ask what he's been dreaming about; he doesn't need to ask her either.

 _What a pair we make,_ she thinks sardonically as she shuffles over to the pile of work that she wants nothing more than to toss out the window. But for the first time since Isshin left, she doesn't bother to complain. 

\-----

"Is Hinamori alright?"

The pen in his hand freezes for the first time in two hours. 

 _No,_ says the silence.

\-----

"I'm fine, Rangiku-san. I'd appreciate it if you would tell Hitsugaya-ku — Captain Hitsugaya — the same — and that I don't blame him. I know it wasn't his fault."

Hinamori smiles and she looks like she's about to fracture into a million pieces.

 -----

Rangiku closes her eyes and feels the breeze, cold and biting, wash over her face. From inside the cave behind her, she can feel the staggering flow of reiatsu emanating from Daiguren Hyourinmaru against her back, as if it's pushing her forward. Urging her to keep walking, keep moving.

_Move on._

She thinks of Gin, of the one day all those years ago when he saved her life and she was grateful for it, one last time before she starts walking back.

 

* * *

 

It's springtime, and cherry blossoms are in full bloom. The wounds and scars haven't been fully mended, but the pretty pink flowers that decorate the shadowy corners of Seireitei do a nice job of covering them up. Illusion or not, the Gotei Thirteen needs this — the healing.

Rangiku sits cross-legged by the entrance of the training hall. Her eyes are closed, and for some time she does nothing but enjoy the feeling of the breeze lazily lifting her hair and soothing her skin. As much as she loves sharing the presence of her friends, the occasional peace and calm is something she's come to appreciate. 

She and Hitsugaya are the only ones here at this time of day, so she only hears one set of laboured breaths, one pair of tabi-clad feet gliding across the wooden floor, and the cadenced whip of a single wooden sword snapping through the air. Beside her, Hyourinmaru lies atop his haori, seated perfectly above the 'ten'. These days, he's either here, in the office, in his room, or in the isolated cave he uses for bankai training. Even cherry blossoms don't seem to be very effective when it comes to the tiny ice-cold captain.

Well, that's why she's here. If flowers alone won't cut it, then she'll just have to add in a little push.

For the meantime, she allows her thoughts to drift aimlessly to any place but one, and eventually they touch on someone she hasn't thought about in years. 

"Do you ever think about where Captain Shiba went?" she wonders aloud, breaking the tranquil air. It's funny; she worked under Isshin for decades, but the first image she sees behind her lids when she thinks of him is his white haori, flapping behind him in a rush of wind and movement as he dashes out the door. 

Hitsugaya stops mid-swing. "...Why?" 

Rangiku opens one eye. Her captain lowers the wooden sword and straightens out of his stance, evidently deciding he's had enough practice for the day.

She shrugs. "Just wondering. It's been... twenty years now?" She opens her other eye and watches him cross the hall, place the sword back onto its shelf, and come back to retrieve his belongings.

As he bends down to pick up his haori, he replies, half-jokingly, "Maybe some human girl swept him off his feet."

Rangiku laughs. "That sounds like him! The perverted bastard." She slowly gets to her feet, lamenting the fact that she can't just sit there forever, and stretches her arms above her head. "What's the first thing you'd do if you ever see him again?"

"Encase him in ice for a few hours, maybe. So he can't run away." He pulls the sash attached to his zanpakutou over his head.

"That's a surprise! Captain Hitsugaya, of all people, using his precious zanpakutou for the mere sake of punishing his old boss?"

He eyes her like he's accusing her of her hypocrisy; he knows she'd do worse. "And you?"

She proves him right. "Kick him into oblivion with six-inch heels. Maybe knock out a tooth or two."

His eyebrows furrow. "Six inches? That sounds like it would hurt you as much as it would hurt him."

Rangiku spins and hops off the stairs onto the untrimmed lawn. "Fashion and beauty come with a price," she points out simply. She's tempted to kick off her waraji and strip off her tabi to curl her toes into the grass and let it tickle her ankles. "Even better if I can do serious damage to  _other_ people while I'm at it. And I'm not the one who wants to freeze the guy."

"Only part of him! Or most of him. Everything but his face, probably, so he can talk but not move."

The lieutenant hums. "Can I kick him first? I promise to leave him in talking condition."

Hitsugaya falls silent, appearing to consider the idea as he steps into his waraji and out into the soft sunlight. "Deal," he eventually agrees.

Rangiku pumps her fist. She weighs her chances of successfully postponing work even further by convincing him to go take a little walk with her. Thankfully it isn't yet hot enough to confine him indoors twenty-four-seven — a good start. 

She decides to skip the convincing altogether — why fight a battle she's doomed to lose?

If there's anything she's learned about Hitsugaya Toushirou in the decades she's known him, it's that there's a surprisingly large handful of things that are capable of thawing his icy no-joking-around attitude: springtime and physical exertion — exempting hostile situations, of course — being two of them. Right now his guard is slightly lower than usual, and as an extremely observant woman with the ongoing mission of getting the boy-captain to relax, and — god forbid — maybe even slack off a little sometimes, there's no way Rangiku could let such a rare opening go.

It takes a whopping two minutes for him to realize they're taking the long way back. (Better than she hoped for!) He looks at her triumphant grin and heaves a long sigh.

Then he says, "I imagine that if we ever find him, he'd skip the greetings and explanations completely and just go straight for the lewd comments. As usual."

"He'd pick you up and spin you around and mess up your hair," Rangiku adds. 

"He can  _try._ "

Peace and flowers are good and precious things, but sometimes scars need more than peace alone to heal. 

 

* * *

 

On the day before Rangiku's birthday, Hitsugaya returns from his monthly trip to Jun'rinan. 

"You're early," Rangiku comments. "It's only been a day."

"I figured I should come back quickly to make sure the division is still intact," he teases. Probably. "And I hope the reports I gave you before I left are done."

She dumps them unceremoniously onto his desk — stapled, of course, or else he'd just be plain annoyed at the avalanche of scattered papers in his workspace. He leafs through them and raises an eyebrow, impressed for once. 

Rangiku grins and huffs in pride. "How's your grandma?"

"Her hip has been a bit of an issue, but other than that it seems that she's fine. Good work," he says, and before he can hand her any more assignments she tosses him a salute and a wink and skips out the door.

Otherwise she won't have enough to do to tide her over for tomorrow.

\-----

On the morning of Rangiku's birthday, Hitsugaya decides to ruin her plans by walking into her room and informing her that the four shinigami stationed in East Shinjuku were injured in a particularly nasty fight last night, and they're to take their place until the next group is available to replace them. Rangiku's about to protest, because today she's going to be busy trudging her way through the dark, murky swamps of emotional distress and unwanted memories, and she'd really much rather do it in the comfort of her own room, thank you very much, but her captain speaks before she can.

"We're leaving in an hour. Get ready," he commands, before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Rangiku sighs.

(Moving on is  _hard_.)

\-----

It's afternoon when the last hollow is struck down, shredded to pieces by Haineko's storm of ashes. Rangiku checks the time: 3:16 PM. Almost five hours until they have to go back. 

She finds her captain perched on one of the tall buildings — skyscrapers, Orihime called them — overlooking the city.

"Does standing up here make you feel taller?" is the first thing that comes out of her mouth as her feet touch down on the ledge.

"Shut up."

Rangiku giggles under her breath and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Wanna get some drinks? I bet there are some nice places around here. Oh, but I guess you're going to have to settle for the kiddie meal. Human laws, and all."

She expects him to make a jab at her about her antiquated sense of humour — but how could she ever possibly get tired of short jokes? — and shameful lack of a work ethic. Instead, when he talks, his tone is serious. 

"You should think of less-destructive methods to drown your sorrows," he says.

Well.

(Seriously. What is with this guy and ruining her joy?)

"...How did you know?" she asks him.

He glances at her. "How many bottles of sake do you have hidden in the office and how often do you pull them out during work hours? You're not exactly a quiet drunk, either."

Rangiku pouts. When was the last time she got herself so smashed in his presence that she felt the need to belch out all of her deepest, darkest secrets? "I was wondering where my bottle of classy sake was. Are you going to get me a new birthday instead? One that doesn't reek of disappointment and abandonment and regrets, I mean."

"If you want."

Whoa. "Really? You can do that?"

"Probably. I don't think that's what you want, though."

And he's right: it isn't. Not really.

Rangiku's shoulders slump. Hitsugaya sighs, then reaches inside his haori and pulls out an envelope. He hands it to her and she takes it with a quirked eyebrow. When she sees the contents, her mouth falls open.

Money. Human world money. A lot of it.

"You're going to catch flies." There's dry amusement in his voice.

She shuts her mouth and looks at him. "What — how —"

"I had Lieutenant Ise help me out. Legally, of course."

Ah, good ol' Nanao. Never lets anyone down. Rangiku can imagine her friend pushing her glasses up, an _'Of course not'_  on her lips. She makes a mental note to give her a massive bear hug when she gets back.

"We have four and a half hours until we're supposed to go back," Hitsugaya continues. He's looking away and folding his arms — something he does when he's embarrassed — and in that moment it's like there's a beacon of light casting down upon him from the heavens. Angels are singing in the background. "Until then, do whatever you want. I hear one of Japan's largest department stores is in this area. Knock yourself out."

He turns, but before he has a chance to shunpo away, Rangiku snatches the end of his scarf and _yanks_. 

He teeters backwards, arms flailing gracelessly, and makes a choking noise. "What are y —"

"Come with me?" Her eyes are sparkling.

His widen with a mixture of dread and horror. "N —"

But he doesn't get to finish that thought, because she's already dashing to the edge of the building — skyscraper — and throwing herself over the ledge, taking him down screaming with her. 

 -----

By the time they step through the Senkaimon, Hitsugaya barely keeps himself from falling to his knees in a manner unbefitting one of the thirteen captains of Soul Society. He scowls at the bags Rangiku forced into his arms like they murdered his family, muttering darkly under his breath about the necessity of hibernation.

Beside him, Rangiku is positively glimmering.

\-----

Her hair's been cut short when she finally shows up at the office the next afternoon. The ends just reach her shoulders, the way they did when she and Hitsugaya first met, seemingly a lifetime ago.

He looks up. "It suits you," he says.

Rangiku glows.

 

* * *

 

It starts to snow when winter comes around, and it's  _freezing_.

Rangiku leaps onto the roof of the Tenth Division's barracks with a bottle of sake, two cups, and a folded blanket — the comfy blue one — tucked under one arm.

"No." The muffled but frigid answer comes before she has the chance to voice the question. He doesn't even turn around. She pouts as she makes her way to his side.

"But Captaaaaiin! It's cold! This will warm you right up!"

Hitsugaya tilts his head toward her, takes the half-eaten manju out of his mouth, and grimaces. His hair is a bit shorter in the back now, and a bit longer in the front. She's reminded of his academy days; he looks younger, except now he's more feathery snow and less sharp ice. (Except when he's consumed by homicidal rage, but that's an entirely different can of worms.)

"I don't understand your insistent need to get me inebriated," he says.

“You're cute when you're drunk!”

Maybe one day, Hitsugaya Toushirou will not sputter or stammer or blush whenever he and 'cute' are forced into the same sentence, but today is not that day. "No," he manages after he remembers what words are.

Rangiku scoffs, trying not to smirk. "Fine, then. Don't look at me if you turn into a popsicle."

She places the bottle and cups down beside the box of manju before shaking the blanket loose, throwing it over her shoulders and around her back, and swaddling herself in it. She plops down beside Hitsugaya in a bundle of thick fabric. 

"I hope you're putting that back."

She pours herself a drink. "Yeah, yeah."

They don't say a word for a long time, the only sounds between them puffs of exhaled breath and muted slurping noises every time Rangiku takes a sip of sake. She was right; she's a lot warmer now. She asks him once more if he wants any. He refuses. She steals a manju from the box.

Above them, stars blanket the night sky, interspersed here and there in tiny twinkling lights. Rangiku wonders idly what those are, exactly; they're not the same as the stars in the human world. Orihime once explained to her that stars in the human sky form constellations — drawings in the heavens — and that in the endless stretch of outer space, there exist other planets, other suns, other moons, other galaxies: entire worlds in which billions and trillions of other forms of life could exist. 

When Rangiku was a child, someone once said that the stars in Soul Society's skies are souls that existed before the spirit world was created — countless people who lost their homes and drifted upward into darkness. 

It makes her feel tiny. Like she could be swept off her feet without warning, away from everything she knows, just to become a tiny, insignificant, infinitesimal dot to be plucked and placed in the vast expanse of the universe.

(She wonders if that's where  _he_  is right now, and a familiar ache nestles into the core of her chest.)

She must be getting drunk already, and she hasn't even gotten through half the bottle. She reminds herself to ask Kyouraku where he got this stuff.

Glancing to her left, she sees Hitsugaya looking down over Seireitei, his gaze pensive. At this time of night, the streets are not yet empty despite the darkness and the temperature. Shinigami come and go in various stages of haste. Some dash to and from their offices with paper in their arms; some stroll empty-handed. Some carry lanterns; others only their zanpakutou, preferring instead to travel by moonlight.

Flakes of snow drift down, light and carefree, twirling in a freestyle dance in the wind, and covers the ground and rooftops in a thin but palpable layer of frost. A low hum floats lazily out of the few bars and restaurants in the area, and the owners of the voices are a mix of tired, relieved and content. Soft yellow lights illuminate windows in a haphazard manner, painting a map of stars on the ground.

Rangiku spots two familiar figures on the street just outside the Ninth Division barracks and nudges her companion in the side. He looks at her, curious, and she nods to the targets of her interest.

Captain Hirako Shinji pats Hinamori on the head, and the small girl puffs out her cheeks in feigned annoyance. 

"Captain Hirako is a good guy," Rangiku says. "Strange, but nice." 

Hitsugaya hums his agreement. 

She doubts anyone other than the man with the sarcastic, childlike humour, the weird haircut, and the widest grin she's ever seen could have undone the damage Aizen did to the Fifth Division. Plus, his immature tendencies and Hinamori's mothering instincts make an oddly compatible pair. 

(Plus, he doesn't treat her like glass.)

The blond captain ducks inside the Ninth — undoubtedly on his way to pester Captain Muguruma — and Hinamori is about to turn the other way to head back to her quarters when she glances up and notices the two on the roof. She smiles and waves. Rangiku waves back enthusiastically, moving her entire arm and throwing off the side of the blanket wrapped around her right side as she does so, at the same time Captain Grouch sticks a hand up. 

Hinamori bows her head and begins to make her way back home.

"That's good," Rangiku whispers as her arm drops back down to her lap. She shivers and hastily retrieves the half of the blanket she discarded, wrapping it snugly around herself. 

"Yeah," Hitsugaya replies. The emotion in his voice is subtle but unmistakable.

People say that time heals all wounds. Rangiku calls bullshit to that. It'll hurt less, maybe, and the scar will close, maybe, but that doesn't make it go away. Hinamori's smiles will never be as bright as they used to be. Hitsugaya will never look at Hinamori and not see scarlet blooming on her chest. Rangiku will never think of Gin and not envision his back before imagining his face.

They can joke about Isshin, about what a horrible husband and — this one made them cringe — father he would probably make, but they won't ever not miss him. 

Things never quite go back to the way they were before, no matter how much you try to emulate the past, no matter how many pieces of yesterday you shake loose and hold close to you. 

Or maybe Rangiku is just being miserable and pessimistic.

How does this always happen? No matter where she goes, she always finds herself back at this one point. 

"Hey, Captain," she starts before she can stop.

"What?"

"Do you ever wish you could change the past? Make it so things didn't happen the way they did?"

He turns his head to her, probably about to say something like  _If you have time to be thinking about things like that, why don't you use it to do your work?_  but he hesitates upon seeing her expression. His gaze shifts downward again, and his hands stir in his lap. His fingers loosely intertwine. 

"All the time," he says, and he sounds even younger than his haircut makes him look. "I'll probably never stop regretting it, for as long as I live."

Then he squeezes his hands together for a fleeting instant, and lets go. He stands up, his arms dropping to his sides.

"I guess the only thing keeping me from spending all my time lamenting my mistakes is the knowledge that if I stay still in one place, I'll be powerless forever. It's pathetic, but at least it keeps me going." He pauses. "And you were the one who taught me that powerlessness doesnt have to be a permanent curse," he adds quietly, almost as an afterthought.

Rangiku touches her ear, tucks a few loose strands behind it, makes sure her hearing isn't failing her already. She blinks. "What?"

"Nothing." He bends down, picks up the box and cups, plucks the bottle out of her hand. As soon as he straightens up, he walks past her to go back inside. 

Rangiku stares at the 'ten' on his retreating back, dumbfounded yet unsurprised, because that answer is so — him. She envies him, a little. The boy with the ocean in his eyes is all grown up — he's hurting, but he's learning to deal with it — while it feels like she hasn't changed at all. Her eyes zero in on her own hands, clutching at her blanket. 

But somehow she feels a bit better.

She hears a cough and looks up. He's waiting for her, all but tapping his foot in impatience.

A smile breaks across her face. She skips over to him, which is a bit difficult because she's cocooned in a blanket, but she manages.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *For those who don't know, Rangiku's birthday is September 29th — also the day she met Gin. 
> 
> *How do products from the human world make their way into Soul Society without evaporating into spirit particles, you ask? HAHAHA. Don't question it.


End file.
